


On Purpose

by goddessofcruelty



Series: Astaroth [2]
Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV), superwolf - Fandom
Genre: Abuse, Angel!Parrish, Angst, BAMF!Stiles, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blow Jobs, Butt Plugs, Closet Sex, D/s, F/M, M/M, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Multi, Polyamory, Rape/Non-con Elements, References to Child Abuse, Torture, Unrequited Love, bamf!Lydia, demon!Rafael
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-06-19
Packaged: 2018-01-24 11:01:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1602824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddessofcruelty/pseuds/goddessofcruelty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It hadn't been his original plan, but after he realized that he and Derek would never have their happy ending, Stiles had called up Crowley and taken him up on his offer. And now, well...</p><p>Now Stiles is the Prince of Hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Crowley likes to tell himself that he has the Devil's own luck. It makes him laugh, mostly, but there is a hint of truth in it, because things just seem to fall into place for him time and time again.

He'd actually been _summoned_ by a scion of a bloodline, that for all intents and purposes had been thought extinct.

Crowley feels like he should have known. The symbiology is all there.

Four cardinal directions. Four seasons. Four elements. Four corners of the Earth. Four archangels.

Four Winchester boys. Sam, Dean, Adam...and Stiles.

And so Crowley isn't even all that irritated with his treatment at the hands of Peter Hale, when he was briefly on Earth. Because Peter has given him a great gift.

(Also, he _might_ have enjoyed some of it.)

That gift is currently flaunting his new powers.

Crowley applauds slowly, as Stiles effortlessly twists the limbs off a lesser demon using only the power of his mind.

“You're learning well, young padawan.”

Stiles gives him a hard edged smirk. “You gave _him_ a deal, didn't you?”

Crowley holds up his hands. “Only the first three. I had nothing to do with that farce of a prequel trilogy.”

Stiles considers. “But he's still alive.”

Crowley shrugs. “Not every deal is about a soul.”

Stiles nods softly, and mulls this over as the mutilated demon is dragged off by a hellhound.

The hound turns its head a moment and stares into Stiles' eyes, before resuming its trek away with its prey, and the boy tilts his head sideways.

“There's something odd about that Hellhound.”

“What? Juliet? Nothing odd except her claws.” And now that it has been brought to his attention, Stiles can hear the click-clack of the beast's abnormally long toenails.

“Oh my god.”

“Really?” Crowley eyes him. "You're going to invoke the name of god here, in front of the King of Hell?"

Stiles ignores that. “You said that you make Hellhounds from Alpha Werewolves right?”

He points after the one who had just left. “That one knows me. I think she used to be a werewolf named Kali.”

Crowley shrugs. “I hardly care about what they were before. Now, are you ready for your vitamins?”

Stiles rolls his eyes, but accompanies Crowley to his bedroom.

“Let me guess, this has all been a _terrible_ misunderstanding and you've come to free me.” The smug, british-accented voice comes from the angel secured to the wall.

Stiles is impressed at the fortitude of the creature.

He's been drinking angel blood every day for a long time, and Crowley likes to practice his torture methods on the man, and _still_ Balthazar has something sarcastic to say every time they come in here.

Crowley absently backhands the blonde, and then pulls down the angel blade that he keeps hanging on the wall just above Balthazar's head.

He opens the angel's veins and then holds out a small bowl to collect the blood in.

Crowley then hangs the blade back up, then cuts his own arm and adds the same amount of blood to it.

Stiles takes his 'vitamins' and settles into the chair, watching absently as Crowley entertains himself by making the angel lose his composure in whatever way possible.

Stiles tilts his hand and extends sharp claws, slicing across his opposite arm and letting the blood drip into the cup as he mutters an incantation under his breath.

The mixture glows, swirled white, black, and red glimmerings, and then settles back into the dark red of blood.

Stiles upends the cup, drinking every last drop, then licking his lips as he half-watches Crowley fuck his angel up against the wall.

He's been in Hell for nearly a year now. (Well, a year in hell time. Around three weeks up top.)

The things that happen here have long since ceased fazing him.

It hadn't been his original plan, but after he realized that he and Derek would never have their happy ending, Stiles had called up Crowley and taken him up on his offer.

And now, well.

Now Stiles is the Prince of Hell.

-

Dean looks up with a frown as there's a banging on the door to the bunker.

File that under: Things that should _not_ happen.

He grabs his gun, and cocks it as he heads up the stairs and whips the door open, pointing the gun right at the forehead of the short, redheaded woman standing there.

She looks bored. “You hunters are all the same.”

For some reason, she makes Dean very nervous.

He tilts his head, and doesn't lower his gun, but Dean does step slightly backward so that she has to step into a devil's trap to get to him. “Do I know you?”

Lydia gestures impatiently and then takes a step back, both eyebrows arching in surprise. She looks at her hands, and then furrows a brow and tries it again. “Fascinating.”

“Yeah, thanks, Lady Spock. What the fuck do you want?”

She shrugs and tosses her long, red curls over her shoulder. “I need to speak with your guardian angel.”

Dean un-cocks the pistol, lowering it to his side, but keeping it at the ready. “For your information, lady-”

He cuts off as a familiar hand is settled heavily on his shoulder, the gravely voice speaking softly. “It's alright, Dean. I know why she's here.”

Dean turns to look at Castiel, one eyebrow arched, and then he shrugs and tuck the pistol in the back of his waistband.

Lydia tilts her head, lifting soft, brown eyes up to Castiel as she twirls a curl around her finger. “Well?”

Dean decides that he _really_ doesn't like her.

The angel looks at Dean, and then back to the banshee. “Not here.”

He steps forward and presses two fingers to the woman's forehead.

“Hey-” Dean starts to protest, but they are gone before he can get it out.

He swears and slams the door shut, as they disappear. “God-FUCKING-dammit.”

He yells at the ceiling.

“I thought we were done with the sneaking around and lies, _Cas_.”

There's no answer.

“For fuck's sake.”

He goes back to his room and grabs his cell.

“Sammy. I think you better wrap it up and get back here. There's something going on with Cas. He's having secret meetings with demons again.”

-

“Derek...” Peter's voice is tinged with apprehension, and Derek grits his teeth.

“Do we have to talk while you're in my head? Just do what I asked.”

“Derek. Someone's been in your head other than me.” Peter sounds... _worried_. “Whoever did this had a lot of skill.”

“What?!” Derek is _not_ panicking, okay maybe a little bit of panic. Because his mind has been fucked with _way_ too much in his life.

Scott is watching intently from the couch because this is _supposed_ to be a training exercise so that Scott can learn what Peter knows about this Alpha power.

“Hang on.”

It's a long tense silence, and then something _shifts_ , and the memory comes flooding into Derek.

When Peter pulls out, wincing and then flops backward onto the chair, the younger man collapses forward, and he's taking these deep gasping breaths that sound an awful lot like sobs.

Scott hops up from where he'd been sitting, and comes over. “Derek?”

Derek looks up, and yes, his eyes are shining with tears.

“I need to talk to Stiles.”

Scott shakes his head. “He's been on vacation for a couple weeks.”

Peter snorts. “No, he hasn't. Unless he went without his dad. The Sheriff hasn't missed a day of work, or an evening of Melissa McCall.”

The two younger wolves turn to look at him, and he shrugs.

“What? I think it's important to know the daily habits of our local law enforcement.”

-

Balthazar hangs limply on the wall, and Stiles and Crowley are both staring down at a chessboard.

“Scouts say she's headed west. Signs are headed in that general direction, though she's taken some odd tangents. Doesn't seem to be in too much of a hurry.”

Crowley reaches and moves a piece, then leans back and sips at his drink.

Stiles nods and chews at his lower lip, amber gaze still focused on the board. “Think she knows about my Pack?”

“I'm eighty five percent certain she does. She has informants same as we do.”

“Then it's about time I got headed back to Beacon Hills.” Stiles moves his piece and stands up, brushing his pants off. “Mate in five moves.”

Crowley raises his glass. “Say hello to Uncle Peter for me.”

Stiles smirks as he vanishes.

-

When Chris Argent walks in his front door, Peter Hale is sitting in Chris' favorite chair, drinking his whiskey.

“You have a problem, Christopher.”

“And it's drinking my liquor,” comes the rejoinder as Chris slips his leather jacket off and turns his back on Peter to hang it up.

A year ago, he would never have even considered doing that, but a lot has changed, and Chris, well, he has insurance.

“Stiles.” Peter downs the last of the glass and sets it on the table next to him. “Our little witch has become something a lot more dangerous.”

Chris becomes hyper focused on the wolf.

“What happened?”

Peter leans forward slightly, allowing himself a moment to admire the lines of Chris' body before continuing.

“I was showing Scott how to alter memories, and we came across one of Derek's that had been altered by Stiles.”

Chris furrows a brow. “How is that even possible?”

The werewolf shrugs. “I have no idea. That's why I'm here.”

Argent lofts a brow.

“Oh is it, Peter? You could have called or send a text. You didn't need to be here in person.”

He steps closer to the younger man, forcing him to lift his chin to look up at Chris.

“Tell me what you want, Peter.”

Peter reaches out and hooks a finger in Chris' belt loop, tugging him close enough that Peter can feel the older man's belt buckle against his chin.

“I think you know what I want.”

“I think you know I want to hear you ask for it.”

There's a brief battle of wills as they stand there silently, and then Peter grumbles.

“You, Chris. It's always been you.”

-

“He's broken, Castiel, and only you can fix it.”

“Call me Cas.” The angel stares down at the banshee. “I don't think Gabriel is good for Sam. I have observed some of the things that he subjected the younger Winchester to and I-”

“Wait, what?” Lydia's eyes narrow and she fixes the angle with a pointed glare. “You _watched_ them? Let me guess. You didn't ask for their consent.”

Cas tilts his head and narrows his eyes at her but she fixes him with her own glare of doom.

“Castiel, every single thing those two did together is consensual. Now you stop being a judgmental asshole, and you let your brother see the man he loves.” Lydia points one perfect nail at Cas' chest in emphasis. “Today.”

She crosses her arms and looks imperiously at him. “Now take me back home before your boyfriend loses his shit.”

“Dean is not my...boyfriend.”

“Castiel, you have a lot to learn about human nature.”

-

Scott bursts into his room, stopping dead in his tracks when he sees Allison and Isaac together in his bed.

Brown eyes skim over the expanse of flesh on display, then he narrows his eyes.

“You assholes.”

He stalks over to the bed and wraps his hand around the back of Isaac's neck.

“You started without me.”

He claims Isaac's lips in one hard motion, devouring his mouth, and biting the beta's lower lip before shoving him down onto the bed.

“You're both in deep trouble.”

Scott pushes his worries about his best friend out of his mind, as he settles on the bed with his lovers.

Allison laughs and helps Scott double team Isaac, both of them attacking either side of his neck with teeth and tongue.

Allison drags her nails along Isaac's torso slowly, while Scott's free hand slides down further, teasing along Isaac's thighs. 

Quickly and efficiently, they turn Isaac into a pleading, quivering mess.

Scott then pushes Isaac over on his side, and Allison claims the beta's mouth, twining her tongue with his as Scott slicks his fingers up.

Isaac wraps his right leg around Allison so that Scott can have easier access, moaning against Allison's lips when he feels the first finger breach him.

She reaches down, and teases her fingers along Isaac's length until he's leaking against her thigh.

He's whimpering into her mouth as Scott scissors his fingers, stretching Isaac's hole, and the blonde is rutting up against Allison's hips and fucking himself back on Scott's fingers at the same time.

Isaac whines softly when Scott slides his fingers free, and the Alpha chuckles.

“You are a greedy brat.”

He slaps the pale flank hard enough that the handprint left behind is lurid red, and Isaac gasps thinking about how it will stay there, marking him, for days.

Allison shifts back so that her boys can get situated, letting her hand slide between her legs as she watches them.

Scott pushes slowly into Isaac, whispering the beta's name into his ear as he bottoms out, then kisses Isaac's neck, wrapping his arms around the blonde and holding him tightly. He waits a moment, waits until Isaac relaxes fully, and then reaches for Allison.

She hooks her left leg around them both and reaches for Isaac's cock, sliding it home inside her. Allison lifts her chin as Isaac's hand finds her breast, and she nips at his jawline.

Scott wraps his strong arms around both his lovers, and Isaac gives a soft sigh of contentment.

This is when Isaac feels at peace, this is _home_ and _safety_ , wrapped in and surrounded by the two people that he loves most, as they move together towards completion.

And then after they disengage, when Allison is holding him, and Scott is wiping all of them clean with a washcloth, when they all curl together, limbs tangled until they're not three but one single entity, only then can Isaac truly relax, truly let himself believe that maybe everything is going to be alright.

-

“Well, this isn't going to end well.”

Stiles is leaning against the doorway to the Sheriff's station, and he's staring at Parrish, who leaped to his feet when he saw Stiles.

Because now Stiles can see what Parrish truly is. And vice-versa.

“What have you _done_ to yourself?” Parrish is appalled.

They're both lucky that the station is otherwise empty, because no one would be able to understand the conversation that they're having.

“I could ask the same. How long have you been riding that poor boy?”

“Deputy Parrish died overseas. With his last breath he gave his consent to me.”

“Of course he did. And which featherhead might you be?”

Parrish narrows his eyes at the slur, then lifts his chin with pride.

“My name is Kushiel.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Stiles?”

“Hey cuz, listen, I need to talk to your angel.”

“Yeah, well get in line. Some redhead already stole him today.”

There's silence on the other end.

“You there, kid?”

“Yeah, just reevaluating. Hey, if you see him could you tell him that one of his bird brained brothers has decided to take up residence in my town?”

“Yeah, will do.”

“Thanks, Dean. Oh and...it's strawberry blonde.”

-

“Well, isn't this a pretty sight.”

The trio breaks apart, Allison rolling to pull her bow out, and the wolves extend their claws.

The woman steps out from behind a tree, leather clad form sauntering closer, eyes raking over the boys before turning to Allison.

“Mind if I borrow one of your pretties? You seem to have an overabundance.”

Abaddon steps towards Isaac, reaching out to card her hand through his golden curls, and he goes to snarl but the sulfur smell just makes him sneeze.

“Oh, aren't you the cutest thing?”

Allison draws and looses, aiming right at the demon's face.

“You leave him alone!”

Abaddon sighs dramatically and shakes her head.

“Didn't your mother ever teach you to share your toys?”

Scott snarls and rushes her, eyes flaring red, but Abaddon laughs and outstretches her arm.

Both wolves fly backwards and the demon knight steps forward, moves into Allison face and looks her over. “Then again, you might do as well.”

Allison lets her bow loose, or tries to. She's held immobile in that space, the woman's power wrapping around her like a rope.

“Oh no, little hunter, you're coming with me.”

-

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean overbalances in the chair that he's leaning back in, and knocks himself backwards. Castiel watches, tilts his head.

“Are you alright?”

“No. I'm not fucking alright. You just made me fall because you can't be assed to knock or call or shit.”

Cas reaches to help him up, but Dean swats the hand away and gets his own damn self off the floor.

“What the hell was that, Cas?”

“If you had been using your chair properly...”

“Not that! What the hell was you taking off with that chick. You keeping secrets from me again?”

“Yes, Dean. But they're not my secrets. They're Sam's.”

“Son of a bitch.” If Sam is keeping secrets again, this is way past not good.

It takes Dean a minute to remember. “Oh, Stiles called me. He's got an angel lurking in his area. Thought you'd like to check it out.”

Cas thinks a moment, then nods. “Yes, I think I would. Would like to...check it out.”

He reaches his fingers towards Dean's forehead only to have them batted away.

“Oh, no, we're driving, remember?”

-

Chris Argent is balls-deep in Peter Hale, literally, when his phone goes off. He looks over at it, then up at Crowley who's occupying the other end of the wolf.

He ignores the first call, but when the second one comes in, he pulls free with a shiver and reaches for his phone.

“Scott?”

“Someone's taken Allison!” The others can hear the tinny voice through the phone.

As soon as he hears the description of the kidnapper, Crowley just up and vanishes, and Peter coughs a moment before collapsing on the bed weakly.

“I've had better threesomes.”

Chris has already cleaned himself up and is tugging his jeans on, while Scott rambles on the other side of the line.

Peter snorts a laugh when he hears Isaac ask Scott, “Did he just say threesome?”

“Maybe it's catching.”

He hears Isaac's “Oh my god, that's _Peter_ ” before Chris hangs up on them and strides out the door, grabbing a random duffel of weaponry as he goes.

Peter looks around a moment.

“I suppose I'll lock up.”

-

Crowley appears in Stiles' bedroom.

Stiles is in the process of giving himself a much-needed release of tension when the King of Hell shows up. He doesn't bother to stop.

Crowley leans against the wall, and waits until his heir has spilled all over himself, before striding forward, handing him a wet wipe.

“She's here.”

Stiles groans and lays his head back. “I had like, three seconds of afterglow dude.”

“I'm sure you and righty can make it up to each other later. Right now, we have to make battle plans.”

Stiles snaps his fingers and he's cleaned up and dressed similarly to Crowley, same black suit.

Only instead of the sleek black tie, Stiles' is red and he's wearing matching sneakers.

Crowley arches a brow. “Really?”

Stiles grins. “Hey, I look good in red.”

-

Rafael McCall, or rather, the demon wearing his face, backhands the girl tied to the chair.

“Where is the boy?”

Allison has no idea who they're talking about.

They could have had Scott when they'd taken her, and there's no one else who's important enough to warrant kidnapping.

She's still refusing to say anything, just in case she betrays something inadvertently.

Not for the first time, she's grateful for the Argent training. Her own father has hit her harder than that.

Then again, McCall doesn't seem to have his heart in it. If she were to guess, Allison would say that he's keeping up appearances.

He hits her a few more times, showy but superficial, and the damage looks a lot worse than it is. Allison's aware of this, because it's her job as matriarch to know the difference.

She wonders what McCall's play is here, and she's still working through that when Abaddon returns from wherever she fucked off to.

“Anything?” Allison hears her ask as the door to the room where she's being kept is closed behind McCall.

His response is muffled but she thinks he says something about training.

Allison quickly begins freeing herself. She needs to find Scott.

It takes her less than five minutes to get out of the ropes, put the chair on top of the table, and climb herself out through the window.

Scott and Isaac are there, lounging against a few trees.

Allison jumps from the window and they catch her in tandem.

“You guys were just hanging out, waiting?”

They both grin at her.

“We knew you had it under control.”

“Scott, your dad-”

“I heard.”

-

Dean pulls the Impala up to the Sheriff's station, and Sam and Cas get out. Sam eyes his older brother a little but Dean is determinedly ignoring him.

“Dean-” He starts to say, but he's interrupted.

“Sam, can it wait?”

“Yeah, I guess-”

“Good. Cas?”

Castiel looks between the two of them and sets his jaw, and then leads the way into the police station.

He stops just past the doorway as he and Parrish catch sight of one another.

Parrish offers up a weak smile.

“Can I help you?”

The Sheriff halts in the doorway to his office. “Aw, crap.”

Dean flashes his devil-may-care grin.

“Sheriff.”

Stilinski sighs. “Come on back.”

The Winchesters follow him to his office. Cas stays behind. He fixes his sky blue gaze on the Deputy, but doesn't say a word.

Parrish does some paperwork, but eventually he sighs and points to an interrogation room.

“We should, maybe, talk?”

Cas nods and rises, proceeds him into the room. He waits until the door has shut before turning to face Parrish.

“Why are you here, Kushiel?”

“You mean, as opposed to joining one of the angel factions?” He paces. “Because I'm _tired_ of all that, Castiel. I've spent my entire existence hurting people.”

Parrish sighs. “I just wanted to _help_ for once. I thought a small, quiet town would be a good place to start. I saw the name on a map and felt drawn here. How was I supposed to know that the Sheriff's son would turn himself into a demon?”

Cas' eyes widen at that and then he narrows them again. “Stiles?”

Parrish nods. “Yes, Castiel. He's _changed_.”

Cas strides from the room, Parrish following in his wake, and he bursts into the meeting that the Winchesters are having with the Sheriff.

“Dean, Sam, this is Kushiel. He's an angel. Sheriff, where is your son?”

The Sheriff stares at Cas, while the brothers stare at Parrish. He grins somewhat sheepishly and gives them a little wave.

“Stiles? Uh, hang on.”

The Sheriff grabs his phone.

“No, need, Dad, I'm here.”

They all turn to see Stiles leaning against the doorway in his suit, he's taller and more muscular than the last time the boys had seen him.

All Cas can see is his demon face. “Oh, _Stiles_ , what have you done?”

“Stiles and I have gotten _very_ close.” Crowley's voice wafts over Stiles' shoulder, and the younger man shifts to make way for him.

The King of Hell strides into the Sheriff's office, Stiles follows, and Parrish takes a step back behind the Sheriff.

Who turns to mouth, _“Kushiel?”_ at Parrish. The deputy gives him a half-shrug and mouths back, _“I'll tell you about it later.”_

Crowley rubs his hands together.

“Let's get down to the nitty-gritty. Stiles is the new Prince of Hell, sorry Moose, and Abaddon is coming after him. She's kidnapped one of his friends. Everyone on the same page? Yes? Good. Go get her, boys.”

The room erupts in arguing and there's nothing but yelling for almost ten minutes, and then there's a sharp whistle from the doorway.

Everyone turns to look, and there's Lydia, perfect as always, shaking her head.

“Stiles, you're an idiot.” She points to Sam. “You're coming with me.”

Dean opens his mouth and Lydia gestures. Nothing comes out.

“Lydia.” Cas' voice is stern.

“Keep your pet under control then.” She purses her lips but lets Dean go.

“How many times do we have to have this conversation?” Cas narrows his eyes at her.

Dean arches a brow and turns to eye Cas. “How many times have you _had_ this conversation? And no, she's not _taking_ Sam anywhere.”

“Relax Dean, it's fine. I'm going with her.” Sam takes a step towards Lydia.

“Really, Sam? We're going to go down this road again? Fucking around with demons?”

“Banshee.” Lydia, Cas, Sam, Stiles, and Crowley all say it together, and then eye each other suspiciously.

Dean throws up his hands. “Fine, go with her. I'm not coming after your ass when she does...whatever it is she does to you.”

Lydia rakes her eyes along Dean slowly. “Oh but he _likes_ what I do to him.”

Dean flushes, while Cas steps in between them. “Lydia,” he warns again.

She rolls her eyes and flips her hair, then turns on one delicate heel and stalks out of there, Sam following in her wake like a puppy.

Stiles is beaming. “Isn't she amazing?”

Crowley is similarly admiring. “You may have to bring her to Hell from Purgatory. I could see a lot of uses for her.”

“Whatever.” Dean is so done with this. “How do we find Abaddon?”

-

Lydia shoves him into her library.

“Be patient with him, Sam.”

With that cryptic advice, she shuts the door behind her.

Sam hears a noise behind him and automatically lifts his gun to face the threat.

“Heya, Samsquatch.”

Gabriel steps forward.

Sam shoots him.

“Um, ouch. I'm guessing you're not happy to see me.”

The voice is steady but Sam knows it well enough that he can hear the thread of uncertainty.

He breaks his hand on Gabriel's face anyway.

Gabriel heals him, while Sam lets loose a stream of curses.

“I know, baby. I know.” The angel reaches up and threads his fingers through the long hair. “I missed you too.”

Sam's voice breaks, and he sits heavily in the plush chair. Gabriel stands between the human's parted legs and wraps his arms around Sam's shoulders.

“I thought you were dead.” Sam's voice is muffled in Gabriel's shirt.

“I made a deal to save myself. The catch was that I wasn't allowed to see you.”

“Who?”

“Cas.”

“I'm going to kill him.”

Gabriel pulls back slightly and Sam lifts his chin to look up at his angel.

“I'd rather you focus all that attention on me. We've got a lot of time to make up for.”

Sam's face tightens, and Gabriel's heart sinks.

“Unless, you'd rather not.” He tries to keep his voice calm.

Sam shakes his head. “No, it's not that. Lydia...”

And Gabriel breathes a sigh of relief.

“Sam, I know about Lydia. It's fine. You did what you had to do. But now,” he looks deep into those soft hazel eyes, “now you belong to me again.”

Sam shivers in his arms and Gabriel _has_ to kiss him, has to impress his claim.

He tilts Sam's chin up and lowers his lips onto his boy's, invades that soft mouth with his tongue, explores, tastes, and renews his familiarity with every corner of Sam's mouth.

When Gabriel slowly parts their kiss, Sam is glassy eyed and whines softly, and Gabriel smiles.

“There's my boy.”

-

“Stiles. What have you done?”

It's just him and his dad now. The others have gone to track down this Knight of Hell, to figure out how to kill her, because she's all in after Stiles.

She gets her hands on the Prince of Hell, somehow convinces him to join with her, with whatever means necessary, and she wins the contest.

And _that_ 's why Stiles took those memories from Derek, why he has been so careful not to be seen going into his own house, why he hasn't been hanging with any of the pack.

Because any of them could be used to coerce him into betraying Crowley. But especially Derek.

“What I had to do, Dad.” He tilts his head slightly, and smiles sadly at his father.

The Sheriff shakes his head. “There has to be another way.”

“It's too late for that, dad. I'm already mostly demon. There's no going back from here.”

There's a choked noise behind him, and Stiles turns to see Derek.

The Prince can see that Derek is really _looking_ at him, and he puts the pieces together.

“Peter. Fuck. That son of a bitch. Derek...”

But his breath is cut off as Derek slams him into a wall, but it doesn't hurt him like it would before. Stiles doesn't even make a sound.

“How could you do that to me, Stiles? How could you do that to _us_?”

Derek's voice is a growl, but Stiles can hear the anguish in it. He has no easy answers for the man he loves.

“I did what I had to do.”


	3. Chapter 3

“We need to talk about this.”

“There's nothing to talk about, Derek. I made a decision and went with it.”

The Sheriff has considerately given them a moment in his office.

“And did you ever consider my feelings, Stiles?”

“Yeah, Derek, that's why I took your fucking memories.” Stiles narrows his eyes. “Also, where is uncle dickbag?”

“I'm trying to talk about _us_ , and you want Peter.” Derek's voice is flat.

Stiles tries to tell himself he doesn't care.

“There is no us, Derek.”

But his heart gives away the lie. Derek just _looks_ at him.

“Yes, yes, can we have our domestic with our puppy later, maybe when there's not _a knight of hell gunning for us_?” Crowley is visibly impatient as he reappears.

Derek snarls at him. “We are not _dogs_.”

The King of Hell suddenly barks a laugh. “Oh I don't know Derek, I think you'll make a good bitch for Stiles.”

Derek growls but looks at the new Prince, and they way he flushes and looks down sets Derek back a step.

“Stiles, what's he talking about?”

“Okay. So. There's this _thing_ about Alpha werewolves. Even former Alphas.” Stiles waves his hand vaguely and Derek crosses his arms and gives Stiles his best 'get on with it' stare.

“So. Like. Heaven, hell. But not for the supernatural. You guys will end up in Purgatory.”

This is not new knowledge to Derek. He doesn't respond.

Stiles paces a bit. “Except for Alphas. They go to Hell.”

Derek arches a brow.

“Only. Not as werewolves. Or even wolves. They're, um.” Stiles pauses and considers. “Have you ever heard of Hellhounds?”

“Like Cerberus?”

Stiles' jaw drops a little and he blinks twice and then shakes his head. “I fucking hate it when you do that. Yes, anyways, exactly like Cerberus, only with one head obviously and huge. Really fucking huge.”

Derek arches both eyebrows, and they're not friendly.

“Are you trying to tell me that Alpha werewolves turn into _Hellhounds_ after death?”

Stiles nods like a bobblehead.

Crowley smirks. “Peter was a very, _very_ good boy.”

“Peter. Was your pet.” Derek turns that eyebrow-judging stare on Crowley.

The demon inclines his head with an amused look. “And oh so much more.”

“I think I'm going to be sick.”

“You'll learn to love it.” Crowley winks at him and then turns to Stiles. “If we're done here? Abaddon awaits.”

Stiles nods, carefully not looking at Derek as he steps closer to Crowley and they both vanish.

The Sheriff knocks on his door and then opens it to see Derek puking into his wastebin, and no sign of his son.

“Aw, crap.”

-

“Argent...” Dean holds his cell between his shoulder and ear as he pulls up to the diner. “Yeah, I heard. We got a line on that. Yeah, gonna grab some chow- Yeah, that's the one. Okie dokie.”

Chris arrives just as Dean's pie does.

Parrish smiles shyly up at Chris as he's re-introduced to the angel.

“Kushiel, Punisher of God.” Chris recites from memory, then shrugs at Dean's look. “I did some studying up after you idiot started the Apocalypse.”

Dean points his fork at Chris. “Now don't you start that shit again. We had no other choice.”

They start sniping at each other, and Parrish is grateful, because it gives him a chance to look at Chris unhindered.

“They shine so bright, don't they?” Cas murmurs into the other angel's ear.  
“You and...?”

Cas shrugs helplessly. “Sometimes I think yes. Sometimes no. Humans are difficult and hunters...they're the worst at these kinds of things.”

“Summoning won't work. We've tried it, no idea.”

“We have to do something. She has my _daughter_.”

“Not exactly.”

Chris nearly knocks the table over in his haste to get up and grab a handful of Scott's shirt and he growls. “Where's Allison?”

Cas elbows Parrish. “They don't like it when you stare.”

Parrish nods and does his best not to look at the way the muscles in Chris' arms cord as he practically lifts the Alpha werewolf off the ground. Or the way that he's gritting his teeth makes that perfect jawline stand out. And he absolutely, positively does not even notice how the stance that Chris takes makes his jeans tighten distractingly across that muscular behind of his.

“Hospital,” Scott manages, and then steps back, windmilling a bit as Chris lets him go roughly and rushes out the door. “Isaac's with her,” he calls out after the hunter, and then eyes Chris' untouched meal.

“Oh good, I'm starving.” Scott sits down and starts eating.

Cas and Parrish stare at him.

“What?”

“How did your girlfriend get away from Abaddon?” Dean asks around a mouthful of pie, ignoring the angels.

Scott shrugs. “She's good at what she does.”

“Was she hurt?” Cas nudges Parrish at Scott's nod. “I bet her father would appreciate some healing assistance.”

Parrish tilts his head at Cas. “You think?”

Cas nods and shoves him a bit. “Go.”

Dean twitches as Parrish vanishes.

“I fucking hate it when you guys do that.”

Scott looks up after he's finished off Chris' food.

“So, how long can a person survive after being possessed?”

Dean tilts his head.

“Depends on the demon. Mostly, they ride their meatsuits hard.”

Scott nods and looks down. “I was afraid of it.”

Cas narrows his eyes. “Who?”

“My dad. And I think he has been for a long, long time.”

Dean finishes his pie and leans back a bit. “How long?”

“Fifteen years, give or take.”

The hunter shakes his head. “Sorry, kid, there ain't nothing left of your dad in there.”

-

Rafael McCall's screams echo off the rafters of the abandoned warehouse.

It's actually the demon being tortured by Abaddon, but to keep his tiny hold on a corner of his consciousness, Rafe needs to suffer as well.

It took him five years to figure out how to insert himself in tiny tendrils through the demon smoke fogging his mind.

Now, he's practiced enough to be able to manipulate the demon. Rafe got it to bring him back to Beacon Hills, nudged its hands when tying Allison up, directed its blows to showy but non-lethal ones.

he's given up doing anything else but mitigating the damage the best he can.

-

“It was weird, dad, like he wasn't really trying. It was a sloppy knot, ropes instead of chains, and he managed to avoid hurting me anyplace serious. I don't know.”

Chris is silent, but he's got a suspicion. He needs to check with Dean before he says anything to Scott. The Winchesters are the demon experts, his clan sticks mostly to werewolves.

He thinks of earlier with Peter, and then eyes his daughter and Isaac.

_Literally_.

-

“Please.. _Please_ , Gabriel, I'm ready..”

“Shh, Sam, almost.. I've been denied you for far too long, I'm taking my time.”

Sm is bent over the leather wingback, long legs splayed to make him the perfect height for his angel, backside reddened beautifully.

Gabriel doesn't give a damn what Lydia might think about what's happening in her library, he's far too focused on the way Sam is stretched around three of his fingers, about the _noises_ he's making as Gabriel pulls his fingers apart, stretching his boy out.

Sam earns himself a smack as he hitches his hips forward, painfully hard cock seeking friction against the cool leather.

“Someone's forgotten how to behave...” Gabriel is far more breathless than he should be right now. He's not even _in_ Sam yet.

“Someone wasn't around to remind me.” comes Sam's equally breathless and _pointed_ answer.

“You little _shit_.”

Gabriel can't help but grin and shake his head, but he grips Sam's hips after withdrawing his fingers, and slides himself inside his human with one sharp thrust.

Sam arches and his hands dig into the leather of the chair, gasp echoing loudly in the room.

Gabriel holds himself all the way in, hips flush with Sam's ass, and lets his hands roam over Sam, the taut thighs, the quivering muscles of his abdomen, the bowed line of his spine.

“ _Gabriel_.”

“Yeah, yeah, babe.” But he still doesn't move for another moment, and then he pulls all the way back out, smirking at Sam's whine.

“Oh? Wasn't that what you wanted?”

He waits until Sam starts swearing before he rockets forward, fucking into Sam with hard, rough thrusts, and this, _this_ , is what Sam wanted, has craved for so long, and he arches into Gabriel's rhythm.

The angel continues for a handful of times, and then he slows down again, reaching an arm around Sam, curling his hand around the angry red length.

Sam reacts predictably, squeezing around Gabe inside him, and the angel chuckles against the planes of the hunter's back.

“Missed me huh, Sammy?”

Sam moans his agreement and pushes back against him.

The angel doesn't move his hips, stays deep inside Sam, but he does start moving his hand again, jacking Sam just like he likes it, rough and a little dry so that he can feel a slight burn to it.

“... _Gabe_.”

“C'mon, pretty boy, I want to feel it. Go ahead.”

He starts thrusting again, nice and slow, as Sam convulses around him, crying out as his come splatters the back of the leather chair. Gabe keeps tugging at the dick in his hand until Sam whimpers, and then he lets go, wrapping both hands around those hipbones once more.

And now Sam is loose and pliant, laying over the chair boneless, and Gabriel can take his time, which he does, building up slowly to orgasm.

When Gabriel finally comes, spills inside Sam at last, it's with his beloved's name a whisper on his lips, and then soft kisses trailed slowly down the human's spine.

The angel magics up a plug, because he loves the thought of Sam walking around filled with his come, and slides it home, murmuring softly to the hunter, who makes a weak protesting sound.

“That's my good boy, Sam. You want to wear this for me, don't you?”

Gabriel wiggles it a little to make sure it's snug...and maybe to tease Sam as it brushes up against a certain bundle of nerves.

That shocked gasp just makes it all the better.

He pats Sam's ass gently one more time. “All right, babe. Get up and get yourself dressed. I have a certain banshee to apologize to.”

But when they go to leave the library, Gabe hears Lydia talking to someone and pauses to shamelessly listen in.

“No, you listen, Abaddon. You may be a Knight of Hell, but I am queen of the banshees, and I hold dominion over all things that have passed through the realm of the dying. You will not enter _my_ home without my permission. What you may do, is politely request a conversation with him, and I will see if he will accede to your request.”

Gabriel pushes through the door, but Lydia holds things well in hand. Abaddon is pinned to a wall, while Lydia calmly leans against the wall across from her.

“Demons,” Lydia sniffs, “they just don't have manners any more.”

Gabriel smirks. “Abaddon has always been a barbarian.”

He turns to the Knight of Hell. “So, what can I do ya for?”

“I want you to help me take down Crowley.”

Sam is boggling, still in the library doorway. “Lydia?”

His voice is soft and questioning and she turns and winks at him, before release Abaddon all at once. The demon barely wobbles as she regains her balance, eying the angel. Who has produced a sucker from somewhere and is busy doing obscene things with his tongue.

“What's in it for me?”

The tiny redhead wraps an arm around Sam and squeezes. “You happy?”

Sam flicks his eyes to Gabriel and his expression softens. “Thank you.”

Lydia shrugs and hops up on the counter that he's leaning against so that they can watch the other two who have taken to conversing in a language neither of them know. Which makes it Enochian.

“How did you get to be head honcho?” Sam's whispering for some reason.

Lydia answer in a normal tone of voice. “I'm apparently descended from a long line, currently the strongest in existence. Take a strong pack behind me, and magic lessons from Peter and Stiles. Add in a lot of research, some politics, and a dash of drama and tada, queen bee.”

“You should give Abaddon lessons.”

Lydia laughs softly. “I like Crowley, he's professional. I can do business with him.” She looks Abaddon over a moment. “There are things I could do with her, but _business_ isn't one of them.”

-

There's a soft knock at the room door, and Chris Argent lifts his head to see Deputy Parrish, er Kushiel, framed in the entryway.

“Yeah?” Chris is tried and concerned about his daughter, he doesn't have time for whatever crap the kid is bringing him.

The angel flinches back the tiniest of amounts, but Chris is a trained observer. he sighs and run a hand through his hair. “Sorry, that was rude. What can I do for you...Deputy?”

“Actually, it's, um, well, I can help her. Y'know. If you want me to.”

Chris lofts both brows and then nods. “I'd appreciate it.”

Kushiel steps over to where Allison is sleeping, smiling tentatively at Isaac, who gives him a bland look in return.

He places a hand across Allison's forehead and closes his eyes. He glows a silvery-white a moment and then the archer's wounds just fade away into nothing.

Chris is already on his feet, and he offers a hand to the Deputy. “Thank you.”

His voice is softer, no longer rough with worry, and Kushiel looks into his eyes. “Any time.”

It means _anything for you_ , but Chris will never know that.

Because just at that moment, Chris lets go of his hand, looking over as Peter Hale wanders in the doorway with coffee. The werewolf hands one to Chris, and then lifts his chin to receive a kiss from the hunter.

“How-Oh, she's healed. Good. Then we can possibly get something other than hospital coffee. I'm not sure how anyone is supposed to feel better with this swill the only available hot drink.”

Chris eyes Peter but it's so amused and _fond,_ and Parrish really can't deal with that right now.

The angel slips silently into invisibility.


	4. Chapter 4

“If he's a demon now, you can summon him.”

Dean hands Derek a beer, which he takes gratefully. “Though I'd wait to have that talk until after we've ganked Abaddon.”

He offers Scott one as well, but the Alpha declines. “What about my dad?”

Dean shrugs and sits in the chair, facing the wolves who are perched on the end of either bed in Dean's motel room.

“Hard to know about that one. Talked with Argent a minute ago, and Allison seems to think there's some of him left in there. If he's survived this long, man... He's probably fucked in the head. Just a word to the wise.”

Scott nods once and then looks down, lost in thought.

“Can you teach me how to summon him?” Derek focuses intently on Dean.

“Of course, man. You're going to need his real name though.”

Derek nods softly. “I know it.”

Scott turns his head and arches his brow. “I don't even know that.”

Derek shrugs, but the tips of his ear turn red.

“Aw, you love him,” Scott teases for a minute, and then his face falls. “Derek, he's still the same guy underneath, I _know_ it.”

“Scott, he used my _mind_ against me. That's worse than anything else he could have done. And he won't talk to me about it. I don't see much hope.”

Scott gets up and throws his arms around Derek, who doesn't hug him back...but he doesn't shove his Alpha away either.

“He's still in there, Derek. And he loves you. I know it.”

Derek shrugs faintly, but his posture is less tense.

“If we're done with the chick flick moment? We need to plan how to take down the Knight of Hell that's got your dad.”

Scott rises and nods. “You and Derek ought to talk to Mr. Argent. I need to check on Isaac and Allison.”

Dean eyes Derek as Scott leaves. “I could take your mind off things.”

Derek snorts a laugh, he can't help himself. “Thanks, but your angel and my demon might have a problem with that.”

Dean shakes his head. “Things aren't like that with me and Cas.”

Derek arches a brow. “Yeah. Yeah they are.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “I have no idea why people keep saying that.”

The werewolf just heads towards the door. “Let me know when you got things figured out. I need to talk to my uncle.”

-

Scott gets to the hospital to see Allison and Isaac leaving, eyes wide in surprise as her injuries are gone.

“Parrish healed me,” she says, full of wonder. “Did you know he's an angel?”

“If anyone in town turned out to be an angel, I would have expected it to be Isaac. He's pretty enough.”

Scott runs his hand through the golden curls and grins as Isaac flushes, leaning in to kiss him softly before twining his hand with Allison's.

“Where's your dad? Winchester wanted to talk to him, get a plan together.”

Allison shrugged. “He and Peter left, think maybe they went for coffee?”

-

They were, in fact, _not_ getting coffee.

Halfway down the hallway, Chris had reached over, taken the hospital coffee cups and dumped them in the trash, an action that Peter highly approved of.

He's even more approving when Chris curls his hand around the back of Peter's neck, and shoves him into a supply closet when no one's looking.

“We have something from earlier to finish,” Chris growls into Peter's ear and fuck if the hunter doesn't keep managing to find new ways to turn Peter on.

And now, he's holding tightly onto a high shelf just like Chris ordered him to, and trying as hard as he can not to make a sound. But it's not easy because Chris is slamming into him, hitting that bundle of nerves with every thrust, and he's not been allowed to come.

His claws scrape at the metal of the shelf and he's not going to make it, but Chris is thrusting roughly in one last time, and then the older man finds his release, filling the wolf with his seed.

Chris gives himself a second to breathe, and Peter is trembling against the shelving, painfully hard cock leaking along his thigh.

The hunter slowly pulls out, grabbing Peter's hips and turning him quickly. Peter blindly follows direction, biting down on his hand as he feels the tip of a plug breach him at the same time as Chris falls to his knees.

Chris works the plug into Peter while he takes all of the werewolf's length into his mouth, into his throat.  That's all it takes before the younger man is arching into Chris' mouth, spilling over the hunter's tongue.

Chris pulls off slowly, licking his lips as Peter puts himself back together. Then he rises, and refastens his own clothing.

Pulling Peter close one more time, Chris reaches around and presses against the plugs base, while claiming Peter's mouth with his own.

When he pulls back, Chris is smirking. “Now how about that coffee?”

-

“His brothers are going to come looking for him.”

They're talking over the comatose body of Balthazar.

He's covered in blood and other bodily fluids, slumped on the floor, and the two demons are curled around each other, sated.

Crowley shakes his head softly. “No one knows he's alive. Castiel stabbed him in the back, literally.”

Stiles arches his neck, covered in bite marks. “So you're just going to keep him here forever?”

The King nods and stretches slightly. “Why not? Balthazar is a living dead man.”

-

“Balthazar is alive.”

Gabriel and Sam have just appeared in Dean's motel room, and Dean boggles.

“Dude! Aren't you supposed to be dead too?”

“It was an illusion. He was never dead.” Cas appears as well.

Sam immediately strides forward, and breaks his hand on Cas' jaw.

Cas focuses in on the steel band at Sam's throat. “Gabriel, what have you done? I told you if you harmed him...”

“I'm not the one who just broke his hand, Cassie. Relax, he wanted it.”

Cas turns to Sam, absently healing him.

“Do you _understand_ what you've agreed to? Eternity, Sam. These bonds aren't easily broken.”

“Cas, not for nothing, but you sound like a jealous wife.” Dean turns to Sam. “What's going on man?”

Sam shrugs and points at Gabriel with his chin. “We sorta got ...angel married.”

Dean shakes his head and turns to Castiel. “What the fuck is going on, dude?”

Cas squints at him, but doesn't answer.

Gabriel is raiding the minibar of chocolate. He leans back against the wall after taking a bite.

“Cas helped me not die when Luci tried to gank me. In exchange for never seeing Sam again.”

“I thought he was hurting Sam.” Cas is almost muttering.

“And he wasn't...?” Dean's still clueless.

“Apparently not.” Cas is avoiding everyone's eyes now.

Sam sigh and runs a hand through his hair. “Dean, Gabriel is my Master now.”

“Wait, what?”

Gabriel snaps his fingers and Sam steps back, gliding to his knees at Gabriel's side.

“He's mine now, Dean. I own him. And the _things_ I'm going to do to him.”

Gabriel is smirking, and Dean's suddenly full of rage, about ready to dig out his angel blade and make sure Gabriel is really truly dead this time.

But...Sam's face is happy, and the _look_ that he and Gabriel share, well, the anger just drains out of him.

“Sammy, you sure?”

Sam looks at Dean. “Completely, dude. I love him.”

Dean shakes his head, “This is fucked up, but whatever makes you happy man. Now if we're done with this shit, we got real problems. Crowley, Stiles, and Abaddon.”

-

“An angel, huh?”

Parrish looks up as Sheriff Stilinski settles a blueberry muffin on the desk in front of him.

He hadn't known what else to do, so Kushiel had just gone back to work at the station.

Parrish smiles a bit at the muffin, absently picking it up and taking a bite.

“Yes, Sheriff. Thank you.”

“Eh, not a problem. I know they cheer ya up. And I can see that you're blue, even if you're doing a good job of hiding it. I guess even angels have problems, huh?”

The Deputy looks down at his desk.

“Yeah. There was this...person. And I thought we had a thing. But it turns out, not so much.”

Parrish shrugs, and the Sheriff rests a hand on his shoulder, kind blue eyes looking down into his.

“I know exactly what you mean.”

-

“Abaddon.”

The Demon Knight is pressed up against the wall once more by Lydia's magic. The banshee had taken control the second Gabriel vanished.

Her chin lifts arrogantly and those incredible eyes flash with fire, and Lydia has never wanted to take anyone apart so _strongly_.

Lydia steps forward, one hand reaching to caress the demon's cheek. “You need to give up this ridiculous quest for power. It won't make you happy.”

“And I suppose you will.” Abaddon sneers at the banshee. “I'm thousands of years old, _bitch_. There's nothing you can do to me that hasn't been done before.”

Lydia smirks and lets her eyes rake over the demon's body. “Oh Abaddon, you have no idea what I can do.” Her expression gets more serious. “I could spent the next _century_ finding new ways to explore you.”

“But you wont.” It's a question disguised as a statement.

Lydia steps back. “No, sweetie. I don't want you like that. I want your full consent. I want you to want those things. I want you to want to submit to me.”

“And if I never do?”

“I won't pursue you, Abaddon. You come to me or nothing.”

Lydia lets the demon go, expects her to vanish, but the taller woman doesn't. She stalks towards Lydia, obviously trying to intimidate the younger woman, but Lydia is made of sterner stuff.

Lydia simply crosses her arms and arches a brow.

Abaddon halts, so close that there's just a tiny sliver of space between them.

Lydia looks up at her, gauging the demon a moment. Then she reaches out to slowly slide her hand around Abaddon's neck, tangling in those bright red locks, not using her powers at all, and tugs her down.

Abaddon finds herself following the unspoken order without thinking.

She lowers her lips onto Lydia's, both of them surprised when she lets Lydia take control of the kiss. Abaddon tastes the strawberry of her lip gloss as Lydia licks her way into the older woman's mouth.

Lydia's hand slides under the leather jacket, at where the baby tee has ridden up to expose the skin of Abaddon's hip. Her thumb strokes softly, contrasting with the harsh grip tightening in her hair.

When they finally pull apart, Abaddon's breathing is rapid, and Lydia's eyes are dark with desire.

“Come upstairs with me. Stay the night.”

Abaddon hesitates. “You'll let me go in the morning?”

Lydia smiles, twines her fingers in the demon's and tugs her up the stairs.

“I promise.”

-

“We need to free Balthazar.” Gabriel is insistent.

“Word is that he's been being tortured this entire time.” He turns to Cas. “We can't just leave him like that.”

Cas looks dubious. “He did betray me and try to kill me.”

Gabriel snorts. “Really? _All_ of you have betrayed each other. And you did _stab_ him.”

“Plus you were all Leviathan then so your judgment was a bit off, dude.” Dean's looking apologetically at the angel.

“See, listen to your boyfriend, Cas.”

“Seriously?! Why does everyone keep saying that?” Dean grumbles. “Who even told you that he was alive? A demon? Because they are not exactly super reliable sources, Gabe.”

Cas remains silent.

“She and I go way back. I'm certain of the information.”

“She?” Dean cranes his neck. “Wait, wait. _Abaddon_? Abaddon and you go way back?”

Cas puts a hand on Dean's shoulder. “Leave it, Dean.” He looks at Gabriel. “We will get our brother back.”

“We will need to distract Crowley and Stiles. Balthazar is being kept in their personal chambers.”

Sam cranes his neck up at Gabriel, who nods and cards his fingers through Sam's hair as the younger Winchester speaks. “We can kill two birds with one stone. Literally. Get Crowley and Abaddon to the same place, and let them distract each other while the angels go after Balthazar.”

“Are the two of you going to be enough?” Dean eyes the angels.

“We are not alone.” Cas looks up to his brother angel. “Kushiel is here. Also, I believe Lydia would be of some assistance. She's Queen of the Banshees.”

Gabriel slowly arches a brow. “What happened to Aoibheall?”

Cas tilts his head. “I forget your association with the pagans at times.”

“Wait, so you're _actually_ Loki?”

Gabriel grins. “Catch on real quick, don't ya?”

Dean narrows his eyes at Gabriel, while Sam stifles a snicker.

“Anyway. How do we lure all of them to the same place?”

-

Hours later, in the dark of night, Abaddon is on the roof of Lydia's house, where the banshee lies sleeping and sated.

The demon has somewhat greater endurance.

She's staring at the stars when the Knight of Hell feels the displacement of air that means that an angel has arrived.

Abaddon turns to face Gabriel, who offers her his impish grin.

“All set, gorgeous.”

She narrows her eyes, knowing that he's mocking her.

Abaddon once _was_ beautiful, before following Lucifer down, before her being was twisted by Cain. Now, well, she knows that Gabriel doesn't see Josie's pretty face when he looks at her.

All this, Abaddon keeps to herself. “Good. When?”

“Tomorrow afternoon.”

“And on my part?”

Gabriel grins. “All you have to do is kidnap a beta werewolf.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

Cas has reservations about Sam and Gabriel. He doesn't understand how Sam could love someone who hurts him.

He turns to ask the elder Winchester about it.

“Dean-”

“Cas, are you in love with me?”

“I- What?”

The angel takes a step back, eyes wide, and then vanishes into thin air.

Dean snorts, not really surprised. “Yeah, just talk to him, Derek. Fuck you dude.”

He grabs a bottle off the shelf and gets quietly drunk.

-

Derek's headed home when he finds himself suddenly flying through the air and grunting as a wall gets in his way. It says something about his life that he's not particularly worried at this point.

It's not until a line opens across his stomach and he starts bleeding out without healing that he starts to get concerned.

McCall walks up, followed by a redheaded woman in leather.

“Hello, Derek, this is my friend Abaddon. She needs to...borrow you for a while.”

Derek struggles but he can't win against the demons.

They leave a trail of blood for Stiles to follow.

-

No one realizes Derek is gone until Peter comes home in the morning after spending the night at Chris'.

His first call is Scott.

“You sure he's missing, dude?” Scott's voice is sleep thick and Peter can hear Allison's murmurs protests, and Isaac snoring in the background.

“Where else would he be, Scott? He doesn't have any friends.”

Scott sighs. “I'll call Stiles.”

Peter hears a thump and then Isaac swearing as Scott hangs up the phone.

He calls the Sheriff's station next.

“Parrish.”

“Hey, handsome.”

Peter can practically hear the man's blush. He has no idea why it's so entertaining to fluster the man, but it is.

Parrish clears his throat. “What can I do for you?”

Peter smirks. “The list is endless, however, for now, could you connect me to the Sheriff?”

“I'm afraid he's not in right now, Mr. Hale.”

Peter likes being called Mister. “Can you be an angel and leave him a message for me, then? Tell him Derek is missing.”

There's silence and Peter hears the scratching of a pen. “Got it.”

“Thank you, Deputy.” Peter purrs at him, and there's another throat clearing and then a “Welcome, sir,” and Peter is grinning as he hangs up.

Sometimes he just can't help himself.

-

“He said what?” Sam is shocked.

“He asked me if I was in love with him.” Cas is miserably pacing.

“And so, of course, you panicked and ran away.” Gabriel rolls his eyes. “Baby bro, you have got some serious issues.”

“Dean and I don't – Feelings are not a topic of conversation we have explored.”

“You two are the biggest, most repressed idiots I have ever met in my life.”

“Not helping, Samsquatch.”

Sam grumbles and goes to get a beer.

“You love him don’t you, Cas?”

Cas sighs. “I cannot tell him that. It's- I can't.”

“Then show him.”

“How?”

“Well, I pinned Sam up against the wall and kissed the fuck outta him. It seemed to work.”

“He kissed me once.”

Sam boggles. “He did? What happened?”

Cas somehow manages to look sheepish. “Some things exploded.”

Gabriel is quietly snickering behind his hand.

Sam elbows him. “And then what?”

Cas furrows a brow. “And then we got into the car and drove back to the bunker.”

Sam covers his face with his hands. “And you never ever spoke of it again, until just now when he randomly ambushed you with the big question?”

His voice is muffled but wry.

Cas tilts his head, then nods. “Yes.”

Gabriel isn't even trying to hide his laughter. “Go watch over him, bro. I've got an idea.”

Cas gives an unhappy sigh and flits back to Dean's motel room, staying invisible, and watching Dean drink himself into oblivion.

An hour after Dean passes out, Gabriel appears next to Cas, a pair of fuzzy handcuffs dangling from his finger. “You put these on, they don't come off until both of you express your true feelings.”

Cas takes the cuffs and stares at them. “Was the leopard print necessary?”

Gabriel grins. “Absolutely.”

As the archangel vanishes, the room changes behind him. They're now in a solid white box, with no obvious escape. There's nothing but the two of them, the bed – now supersized and in a pattern matching the cuffs, and the cuffs themselves.

Cas sighs, lays down next to Dean, then snaps the cuffs on both of them. He settles in to watch Dean sleep.

-

“You sure you want to do this, kid?”

They're standing outside a peaceful farmhouse in Missouri.

“Is there any other way to kill her?”

Gabriel shrugs. “Not that I'm aware of.”

Stiles inclines his head. “Then yes, I'm sure.” He steps forward and then turns as Gabriel doesn't.

“You coming?”

The angel shakes his head. “You're on your own. He's not a real big fan of mine.”

Stiles arches his brow, but shrugs and heads inside.

He emerges over an hour later with a brand on his arm and a thoughtful expression on his face.

Gabriel reappears.

Stiles tilts his head at the archangel. “Fancy some deep sea diving?”

-

“Can you hold him?”

Lydia nods, leaning into the King of Hell's side as they both watch Sam sleep.

“Easily. He's more dead than alive.”

“And his angel?”

“Has gotten Dean and Castiel out of the picture, and is currently off on whatever wild goose chase your Prince has talked him into.”

“The Alpha?”

“Wrapped up with his lovers. It's his one, single weakness.” Lydia studies her nails a moment. “When he's focused on someone like that, he's completely all in. You made sure he couldn't get hold of Stiles?”

“Straight to voicemail, princess.” Crowley waves Stiles' phone in the air. “The Sheriff?”

“Message mysteriously went missing.” Lydia smirks. “Kushiel is incredibly easy to distract.”

“Excellent. And I took care of the hunter.” Crowley inclines his head down to her. “It's been a pleasure doing business with you, Queen Lydia.”

“Likewise.” She lifts her chin for a kiss, making sure it's lengthy, and then smooths Crowley's tie afterward. “Just don't forget when the Court meets in the spring...”

“Yes, dear. The whole weight of Hell will be thrown behind your bid for Fae Queen.”

-

When Sam wakes up the next morning, he finds Lydia perched in his chair.

“Gabriel had to go take care of something, he asked me to look after you for a little while.” She rises and steps closer to the bed, carding a gentle hand through his hair as he sits up.

“Will you come home with me, Sam? I just made fresh cookies.”

Sam grins up at her. “Only if I get a game of chess out of it.”

Lydia rolls her eyes. “How many times do I have to beat you before you quit trying?”

Sam looks affronted. “Excuse me, I'm pretty sure that you're only two games up on me.”

The banshee smirks. “Soon to be three.”

-

No one is answering Peter's calls. Not even Chris. The beta finds this...concerning. He knocks on Chris' door but the hunter doesn't answer.

“Fuck. Sorry, Christopher.”

He puts his fist through the door, and turns the knob. It takes him a while to find Chris, the whole fucking house smells like him, but eventually he finds him stuffed in the attic, tied up, gagged, and drugged.

“Whoever did this is going to die.”

He carries Chris carefully to the couch, and then tries the landline. It's working. He dials the Sheriff's station. It rings and rings.

“Derek goes missing. You are drugged. And something's wrong at the Sheriff's station.” Peter swears softly. “Three things makes a conspiracy.”

He just stands there a minute, uncertain, and then Peter has a sudden inspiration. He makes one more phone call.

-

“Stiles!”

He blinks, once, twice, then drags his gaze away from the blade reluctantly. “Sorry, Gabe, it's...entrancing.”

“I'm aware, kiddo, but you gotta keep your head in the game. Every time you kill with that, it sinks its hooks in deeper.”

“I only need one.” Black eyes snick into place before Stiles blinks them away.

Gabriel snorts. “Two.” He eyes Stiles, who's got a credible innocent look on his face.

“Don't try to trick a trickster. I know what you and the banshee are up to.”

Stiles' grip on the blade tightens and he braces for a strike from Gabriel. But the archangel just laughs.

“Don't worry, I think you're a man I can work with.”

The Demon Prince tilts his head. “You taking on Heaven?”

Gabriel half-shrugs. “Someone's got to.”

“And Sam?”

Gabriel wiggles his brows. “Oh I got plans for him, baby.”

Stiles wrinkles his nose and rolls his eyes, but laughs. “Alright, you dirty old man. Time for me to kill some demons.”

He tosses a huge black key at Gabriel. “Good luck down there.”

-

Peter bursts into Dean's motel room to find it empty. That kind of I-just-got-kidnapped-and-couldn't-take-my-wallet-with-me empty.

He picks up Dean's cell and dials Sam. It goes directly to voicemail. As does the number for Stiles that's programmed in.

He takes the cell with him, gives Melissa a quick call to check on Chris, and to give her the number.

Peter's on his way to the Sheriff's station when he catches the scent of day old blood.

Derek's blood.

-

Derek wakes up inside a cage, or rather, a massive dog kennel. It's not the worst way he's woken up, as such things go. Nothing's electrified, and he's not in any pain.

Rafael McCall is sitting nearby at a table sharpening a knife. The raspy sound soon gets on Derek's nerves.

“Will you cut that out?”

McCall snorts. “You'll thank me for it later.”

Derek's stomach turns, because he doesn't even want to think about what that might mean.

And then Abaddon saunters in and Derek looks her over, wonders how fast she is, if he can incapacitate her.

She laughs and crouches in front of his kennel, head tilting. “Don't flatter yourself, you're not my type.”

Derek says nothing, just glares at her.

“Now your precious Stiles... Well, I'm going to have so much _fun_ with him.”

Derek's snarling, fang and claws out before he can think about, trying to defend his mate.

Abaddon simply laughs.

“Don't worry, puppy. I'll let you watch.”

-

Peter ducks away from the warehouse, having heard enough. He needs allies, there's no way he take her on himself.

He's closest to the Sheriff's station, so that's where he heads, using his supernatural speed to its utmost.

The doors are all chained shut, and he's forced to snap a chain in half before he can wrench the door open. The force of the door giving way overbalances him, and Peter falls to his knees a moment, and then scrambles backward as a noxious cloud of gas bursts through the opening.

Peter looks around, and seeing some rocks from the pavement, starts throwing them through all the windows.

He scents cautiously after the worst of the vapor is gone, hesitantly poking his head in the door. If he succumbs, there'll be no one who knows where his nephew is.

Peter takes a deep breath, and heads in to where the Sheriff should be, finding him slumped over his desk. He grabs hold of the man's uniform shirt and drags him to the doorway.

Parrish is nowhere to be seen.

He leaves the Sheriff on the doorstep, and then heads towards Scott's house.

-

“Castiel.”

The angel glances up as Kushiel materializes inside the white box. He takes in the worried demeanor and frowns.

“Has something happened?”

“Someone threw a gas canister into the police station, everyone collapsed.”

Castiel sits up, frowning as the cuffs tug at his wrist. He's just about to try to wake Dean, when the room and the cuffs vanish.

Gabriel is leaning against the wall. “Sorry, baby bro. You'll have to get your man another time. We gots business down south.”

Kushiel looks anxious. “But the Sheriff's station...”

“Eh, don't worry, kid. I got it all taken care of. You see, I'm the patron saint of shapeshifters." The archangel's lips twist in a smug smirk.  "And I've managed to keep one in reserve for just the right moment.”

Gabriel puts a hand on either angel's shoulder. “Time for us to go to Hell.”

-

“I've always wondered how that works.”

Scott jumps and falls backwards off the bed, while Isaac's whole body blushes. In the meantime, Allison's already got a crossbow aimed at his head.

“At least one of you have some sort of preservation instinct.” Peter rolls his eyes, and then fixes his gaze on Scott who is holding his jeans over his crotch.

“The demons have Derek. I followed a trail to the same warehouse that Allison was in. Only this time, he's in a cage, and your dad is watching him.”

Peter turns his gaze back to Allison, and she's already dressed and is accessorizing herself with weapons. “Your dad's out of commission. Someone drugged him. Stiles' dad too.”

“Stiles?”

Peter looks back to Scott and shakes his head. “No word.”

He lets himself ogle Isaac as he gets dressed. At least, until Scott grabs hold of the back of his neck, and ushers Peter out the door.

“Privacy.” Scott shuts the door in the older man's face and he mutters under his breath, pacing impatiently until they emerge, ready for battle.

“Let's go get Derek back.”

-

Lydia whispers Sam into a deep sleep, and tucks him into her bed, brushing a hand along his hair.

“Don't you worry, Sam, by the time you wake up, Gabriel will be back. He's going to take you to Heaven with him. An archangel's consort... Not bad, sweetie.”

She pats the covers one last time and then rises.

Lydia has a Queen to subdue.


	6. Chapter 6

Scott sends Allison and Isaac to the Argent house, to protect Chris and Melissa in case something comes for them. He and Peter head for the warehouse where they're holding Derek.

Allison rushes into her house to find her dad still unconscious, Melissa is keeping an eye on his vitals. Her phone rings and she breathes a sigh of relief at the welcome voice of the Sheriff.

“All the humans are gathering at Chris Argent's house.”

“No, I haven't talked to Stiles, just Peter.”

“Of course, I'll let you know if I hear from him.”

“Chris was drugged.”

Melissa nods. “Mmhm. See you in a few.”

She tucks the phone away, then gently strokes a hand through Isaac's hair from where he's curled up on the floor at the foot of the couch. “The Sheriff will be here in about ten minutes. He's evacuating the station.”

She smiles softly at Allison, who is cradling her father's head in her lap. “Everything seems to be fine, I'm hopeful he'll wake up soon.”

-

“You can't go with us, Dean. It's not safe for you.”

“Fuck you, Cas. I know Hell better than you do.”

Castiel looks to Gabriel for help, but he just shrugs and thinks, _This is why I didn't give Sam the option._

Dean pokes his finger in the center of Cas' chest.“I'm going, and none of you dicks are going to stop me.”

Kushiel nudges Gabriel. “Why does he lets his human talk to him that way?”

Gabriel shrugs a shoulder. “I don't have a damned clue.” He turns to Cas. “It's time.”

Cas looks at Dean and sighs, steps forward and kisses him soundly. Dean is too surprised to react, and then too overwhelmed. The angel catches him as he falls unconscious, lays him out on the bed. “Not this time, beloved.” He brushes a hand through Dean's hair and then looks at Gabriel and Kushiel and nods.

There's a blink, then three heartbeats of solid darkness, and then the three angels are staring into the fiery portal of Hell. Gabriel steps forward, the two lesser flanking him and marches through the entrance.

For the first day, they encounter nothing but the burning wasteland.

It's been two hours up above.

-

“It's the only thing that can kill her.” Stiles is stroking the First Blade absently, fingertips mapping out the pattern of teeth in the jawbone, as he's been doing for the last few minutes.

It's making Crowley nervous.

“I'm well aware of that, Stiles, however the blade has consequences that you might have wanted to consider before you went haring off on your own.” Crowley's eyes are sparking with Hellfire. “You can't keep up your humanity with that attached to your soul.”

Stiles smirks, and it's dark and cold. “ _The things I do for love._ ”

And then he steps forward and buries the blade in Crowley's gut. The King of Hell is shocked, and immediately tries to smoke out of his vessel, but the magic of the blade holds him there. Stiles twists and then pulls the blade free, watching the burning edges of the wound a moment before tilting his head at the former crossroads demon.

“You were an excellent partner in crime, Crowley.” And then he swings and severs the King of Hell's head from his body.

Stiles wipes the blade on Crowley's perfectly tailored suit jacket, and then tucks it away at his hip. He grabs the head with a tight grip of hair and stares into the dead eyes. “Never trust a liar, old man.”

He steps into the warehouse after using his powers to explode the doorway in, and tosses the former King's head so that it rolls to Abaddon's feet.

“I've done what you asked. Now, let Derek go,” he demands, black lightning flashing along his body.

-

Peter and Scott arrive at the warehouse in time to see Stiles behead his mentor. Scott turns to the side and is quietly sick. Peter sighs and shakes his head. “I knew I should have given him the bite. What a wolf he would have been.”

He waits patiently until Scott has control of himself.

“I don't understand how Stiles could do that.”

Peter considers his Alpha for a long moment. “I'm not sure you ever understood Stiles, Scott.”

Scott glares and flashes his red eyes at Peter, but the beta just shrugs. “There's a reason he's Bruce and not Clark.”

Scott would have more to say, but his attention is caught by the addition of a new voice inside, and he turns to look at the building.

“My dad's in there.”

-

Kushiel is leaking grace and Cas is standing guard as Gabriel wraps the remnants of his shirt around the younger angel. Together they help him up and continue on.

Traversing nightmarish landscape after horror ridden surroundings, fighting battles with putrescent monsters, and shades that whisper insanity into their minds. Kushiel begins to fade faster and faster.

“We need to leave him.” Gabriel is even bound in a few places now, as they cannot waste time and energy to heal themselves. “We must retrieve Balthazar before Stiles returns.”

Cas sighs and heaves Kushiel over his shoulders, continues stumbling on. “I thought you had an understanding.”

“We do,” Gabriel's golden eyes flash in the sudden onslaught of pitch blackness. He's grinning, though the other angel can't see it. “Trickster, remember? I'm going to steal the keys to Luci's cage.”

Cas' shining blue eyes close, and then open again. “He won't notice.” But he hurries as much as he can anyway.

-

Peter and Scott sneak around the back of the warehouse, easily following the sound of voices.

“I should have guessed that _you_ were a demon.”

Scott's dad's voice answers, and Scott has to hold in his lunch again as he listens.

“Oh no, that was _all_ McCall, Stiles. He's always had such a _thing_ for you. Used to watch you when you were sleeping, did you know that? Watched you for a long time before he ever put his hands on you..”

Peter rolls his eyes and punches Scott in the shoulder, before whispering. “Listen to the heartbeat. He's lying.”

They come around the corner, and Abaddon is facing off against Stiles. Rafael has Derek bent over backwards on top of his cage, electrical current running through him at a level high enough to prevent him from healing or changing.

“Yeah, about that,” the demon knight is saying, “I changed my mind. I don't need a right hand after all.” She whirls around without warning and both Scott and Peter go flying into opposite walls. “Aw, you brought your puppies out to play.”

Stiles clenches his teeth, one hand straying into his coat, stroking along the inner pocket. “You shouldn't have come here,” he scolds the werewolves.

-

Rafael watches from deep inside the demon, all the tiny places that he's hidden himself, thinks over plan after plan, until he comes up with one very simple thing that he thinks he can do. He very carefully starts nudging the demon closer to where Derek is electrified. The demon's attention is fixated on Abaddon fighting the werewolves, and doesn't notice that his impatient shifting is actually movement.

With one herculean effort, Rafael McCall wrenches control of his own limbs back from the demon that has owned them for over a decade, and throws his body onto the electrified cage, disrupting the circuit.

“Dad!”

He hears Scott's voice vaguely in the background, looks into Derek's hazel eyes. “Tell my son I loved him.”

The demon quickly regains control, but the meatsuit has been damaged enough that it's no longer salvageable, so he smokes out.

Stiles reaches out and twists his fist, and the black smoke slowly congeals into a little inky ball.

Abaddon turns her attention back to Stiles, rushing over to attack, but she never gets the chance. She freezes in mid-step, as Scott and Peter slide down the wall from where they'd been pinned and hit the cement floor of the warehouse.

They both start crawling towards the cage as their wounds begin to knit together.

-

Dean wakes up alone.

“Son of a bitch.” He puts his fist through the wall a few times, and then starts securing his weapons. He calls Chris Argent.

Allison answers and fills him in. He hops in the Impala and gets over there at the same time the Sheriff does. Chris is still out.

Dean sets everyone to salting all the entrances, and then they hunker down and wait to hear from Scott.

-

“Balthazar!” Gabriel's voice holds an odd note to it, but Cas is more focused on watching the corridor. Kushiel is propped up in a chair by the building's entrance.

There's no one to see Gabriel carefully unhook the blonde from the wall, or to see the pure wrath of an archangel as he destroys the bindings of enochian sigils that hold the younger angel to this place. No one sees him press his lips to the forehead briefly as he heals Balthazar's wound. The tear that drops onto the pale cheek below him, too goes unnoticed. He allows himself two heartbeats to hold the lesser angel to him tightly, and then hefts Balthazar over his shoulder.

Quickly, Gabriel ransacks the room, carelessly throwing objects around until he finds a pouch with four rings inside it. He smirks tightly in victory and then pulls the black key that Stiles has given him, from his pocket.

Gabriel tosses the key onto the floor, mutters the incantation. A portal of black and white flame opens in front of him.

“Castiel, grab Kushiel. We're going home.”

-

Sam Winchester disappears from the bed in which he'd been sleeping, never to be seen on this earth again.

-

Stiles knows the moment Lydia arrives, mostly because she gives his dead soul a little tug in greeting. He toys with the ball of demon in his hands, then slowly crushes it into non-existence.

He steps forward as Scott reaches his father's body, as Peter frees his nephew. “You really shouldn't have betrayed me, Abaddon.” Stiles tilts his head and affects a saddened expression. “I'm very disappointed.”

Her eyes are sparking with ire, but she can't respond. Lydia's not even letting her have that much. Stiles pulls the First Blade from its hiding spot and runs the edge of it lightly along the woman's cheek. Her eyes go from fury to fear.

Stiles takes a moment to enjoy it before he turns to watch Lydia approach. He hands the First Blade to the banshee, and walks over to the werewolves. Lydia walks slowly around Abaddon, and then clucks softly. “I did try to warn you.”

She stands behind the Knight of Hell, whose eyes are flicking back and forth, obviously wondering what's happening behind her.

Lydia pulls out a vial of her own blood, pops the cap on it and sprinkles it over the Blade. She uses a pair of scissors to cut open the demon's clothing, exposing the pale expanse of her back. Lydia begins speaking in an unrecognizable tongue, and delicately carving symbols in the woman's flesh.

Stiles reaches Peter and Derek, reaching out to run his thumb across the younger Hale's cheek. “You idiot, you could have died.”

Derek shrugs. “You're already dead.”

“ _There's a big difference between mostly dead and all dead_.”

Derek huffs a laugh. “Really, Stiles? You're gonna fucking quote Pri-” He breaks off into a coughing fit that leaves blood trickling out of the corner of his mouth. Stiles pulls him away from Peter and cradles the beta in his lap, while he waits for Derek to heal.

Stiles glances over at Scott. “I'm sorry about your dad, dude. What he said-”

Scott shakes his head. “I know, I heard that he was lying.”

Stiles looks down and then back up, honey amber eyes hard. “He was lying about it being your dad. He wasn't lying that it happened.”

Scott looks like he's about to be sick again, when they're both distracted by Lydia yelling Gabriel's name.

“That's my cue,” Stiles says, pressing a kiss to Derek's forehead and handing him back to his uncle.

He hops up, strides over to Lydia's side. Flicking his hand, he extends claws and adds his blood to the blade, and then starts carving his own marks into Abaddon while they wait.

-

Cas appears at the Argent's house, clothing torn and skin bloodied but hale and strong for all that.

“Hello, Dean.”

The hunter jumps up from his seat, throws a punch at Cas' jaw. The angel catches it, lets his sad, blue-eyes gaze look around the room, and then they both vanish.

“Well, that can't be good,” Melissa mutters as Isaac sneezes.

“Damned angels and demons,” he mutters and rubs his nose.

Their attention is taken then by Chris who groans and moves. “Shh, it's okay, Dad. It's okay.” Allison holds onto him tightly.

After a moment, she lets him go and he sits up slowly, looking at the Sheriff. “What's going on?”

“You were drugged, I was gassed, Scott had us all come here for protection, Dean was here but he just got angel-napped.”

There's a boom of thunder just then, loud enough to rattle the windows. The Sheriff looks out into a cloudless, sunny blue sky, as lightning flashes sky to earth. “Crap.”

Chris looks over his shoulder. “I'm going to go out on a limb, and guess _that_ is where we'll find everyone else.”

-

Gabriel appears, clothed in a suit all of white. “What's up, bitches?”

Stiles can't help but snicker. “If only people knew their God went around saying shit like that.”

Gabriel snorted. “Have you _read_ the Old Testament?”

“Gentlemen.” Lydia's eyes flash copper a moment. Keeping hold of Abaddon is obviously starting to strain her.

“Yes, ma'am.” Gabriel walks around the front of the Knight of Hell, offers her a sad smile and then kisses her forehead. “I tried to warn you.”

Returning to her backside, he pulls his blade and nicks the tip of his pinky, dropping precisely three pearls of angel blood on the cursed Blade. Whispering softly under his breath, Gabriel uses his angel weapon to carve a third round of symbols into her back.

The archangel steps back, nods to the other two. “It's done.”

Stiles looks at Lydia, who smiles tightly back, and then they nod and all three begin a chant. It's seemingly three different languages but somehow all the same, and listening to it makes the werewolves nauseous. And then they watch as Stiles brandishes the First Blade, Lydia setting her hand atop his, Gabriel's over hers, and then all three step forward as one, and slide the Blade into Abaddon's back, right in the center of all the carved sigils.

There's a thunderclap, and all of the wolves reflexively cover their ears with their hands, and then there's flashes of lightning so bright that their eyes water.

When they can see again, all four of the others are gone.

“What the _fuck_ just happened?” Derek demands.

There's a long moment of silence, then Peter chuckles softly. “The beginning of a new new world order.”

-

Dean stumbles as he and Cas land somewhere, and he looks around, reaching for his gun...which isn't there.

“You need no weapons in Heaven, Dean.”

“Bullshit,” he mutters, but Castiel is sweeping past him, and Dean can do nothing but follow.

There are seemingly endless corridors of white. White carpet, walls, ceiling. No doors, though they do turn the occasional corner.

At some point, Dean stops asking Cas where they're going. He doesn't answer. They just keep walking down the hallway, until they're in a room.

Dean's just about to ask Cas what the hell is going on...again...when he sees Sam.

“Sammy!”

“Dean!”

There's a big brotherly hug, and Sam offers Dean a seat at the kitchen table, and suddenly Dean recognizes the house in Kansas.

“We're home,” he says, looking around.

Sam grins at him. “Yeah, Dean. We're _home_.”

“C'mon, Cas, have a beer.” They both look at the angel expectantly.

He looks at Dean. “You want me in your heaven?”

“Family, Cas. Sit.”

Castiel take a seat in the third chair of the table, studies the beer bottle handed to him as Sam and Dean clink bottlenecks.

They both take a sip and then Dean tilts his head. “So, we're dead then dude?”

Sam shrugs a shoulder. “We've been dead a ton of times. Does it matter?”

Dean considers. “What about everyone down there?”

“Gabriel has made a bargain with your cousin and the banshee. The earth will be fine now. You two have earned your rest.”

“My invitation get lost in the mail?” Gabriel saunters in and settles into Sam's lap, stealing his beer. He glances over to Cas. “Balthazar will recover, and, just as you predicted, Stiles has not yet noticed our little theft.”

Castiel just nods and drinks his beer.

After the impromptu party is over, he follows Dean to bed.

“Cas?”

“This is _your_ heaven, Dean. Ask me to leave and I will.”

Dean sits down on the bed and runs a hand through his hair. “Cas...”

The angel walks forward, stands between Dean's knees, reaches down and lifts the human's chin up so that he can look into those green eyes. “You have to say it, Dean.”

Dean closes his eyes and sets his jaw.

Cas lets his hands fall to his side and steps back. But Dean reaches out and pulls him back in, strong arms sliding around Castiel's waist, cheek pressing against the angel's abdomen.

“Stay.”

-

Scott and his two betas are still sitting there when the rest of the pack arrives. Melissa checks everyone over for injuries, but the wolves have healed by now.

No one is really sure what has happened to Stiles, Gabriel, or Lydia, at least not until later that night.

The pack is altogether at the Hale house, desultorily eating their usual snacks, when Isaac sneezes twice.

“Dammit, Isaac, you ruined my big entrance.” Stiles' voice shimmers into being a half-second before he does.

“Stiles!” Both Derek and Scott are on their feet.

“Dude, what happened?”

But it's Lydia who answers, pulling away from hugging Allison. “We split the realms between the three of us. Gabriel runs Heaven, I'm running Purgatory, and Stiles is the new King of Hell.”

“Earth, of course, gets to continue on being the bastion of free will.” Stiles smirks and then steps towards Derek. “Can we talk outside?”

Lydia begins explaining things in greater detail as Stiles and Derek walk into the forest.

“I'm here to offer you a deal,” Stiles begins, and then chuckles softly. “It is the way of my kind, after all, isn't it?”

Derek is silent as he looks at Stiles.

“Have you ever heard of Persephone?”

Derek rattles off the entire legend and Stiles snorts a laugh. “I hate when you do that random know-it-all thing.”

“No, you don't.”

Stiles' smile fades into something softer, more tender. “No, I don't.”

“What do I have to do?”

“You'll do it? Just like that?”

Derek grins. “ _This is_ _ _true love. Y__ _ou think this happens every day_?”

-

The next morning Sheriff Stilinski steps into the station to see Parrish supervising the cleaning efforts.

“You stayed,” he says softly, offering the brown paper bag in his hand that holds a blueberry muffin.

Parrish smiles up at the older man. “I thought there might be a good reason to.”

The Sheriff flashes a grin. “Would you like to grab a coffee with me, Deputy?”

Parrish nods. “I can't think of anything I'd like more.”

**Author's Note:**

> Inspiration: Unforgiven by Metallica
> 
> Please let me know if I need to tag anything. <3
> 
>  
> 
> [Tumblr](goddessofcruelty.tumblr.com)


End file.
